


a side effect (of love, my dear)

by inejcrows



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, Pining, Roommates, it’s mutual but they don’t know it, i’d say i’m sorry but it would be a lie, this is very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inejcrows/pseuds/inejcrows
Summary: She tries to think about who was the last man that didn’t let her down, that didn’t break her trust.The answer comes later, while she’s driving away.It comes and it breaks her heart.Jon Snow.(or, Jon is injured, Sansa comes home, they share a flat, they go on a road trip and they fall in love.)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 87
Kudos: 291





	1. is it too late to come on home?

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back again with a multichapter fic.  
> I’m going through some hard times but writing this has helped a little.  
> I hope you are all staying safe and taking care of yourselves.
> 
> (i don’t know anything about hospitals or injuries so be kind)  
> (also: brief mention of Joffrey and Petyr)
> 
> enjoy xx

It starts like this.

**underfoot:** call me. jon is in the hospital he had an accident

She’s driving home when she gets the text and her hands shake when she hits the call button.

Arya’s voice is frail when she picks up, the exhausted sigh amplified by the speakers of her car tells Sansa everything she needs to know. It’s not a broken leg or a simple concussion, it’s something more. Something bad.

“Is he stable?”, she asks, dreading the answer.

“He’s still in the operating room. I… We.. Sans”, she feels Arya’s breath catch and her own eyes swell up with tears. Her little sister is on the verge of crying and Robb’s best friend is fighting for his life and oh God, _Robb_. 

“Ok”, she says, trying to reign her emotions in. “Ok, Arya, is Robb there with you? Mum? Dad?”

She’s in the driveway now, turns off the engine and sits there, taking the phone in her hand and putting it to her ear. 

“Yes, they are here. Gendry is watching Bran and Rickon”, affection for her little sister’s boyfriend blooms in her chest. He’s a good man and he cares so much about the Starks. It makes Sansa think about Harry, who seems annoyed every time she asks to make the journey from the Vale to Winterfell. 

She shakes her head, her own problems set aside in order to start making a plan of action.

Arya’s is basically panting through the phone, panicking and holding back sobs.

“Arya. Arya, honey, listen to me. I’m coming home, I’ll tell Harry there has been an emergency. Twenty minutes and I’m on my way to you. Now breathe with me”, her sister does, follows her instructions to breathe in and breathe out. When Sansa is sure she’s breathing normally again and her tears have subsided, she tells her she loves her and hangs up with the promise of calling her once she’s back in her car.

Sansa has to take a few minutes to collect herself, tries not to think about Jon and surgeries and _death_ , and then gets out of her car.

She is trembling while looking for her keys and it’s difficult to unlock the door.

The house is silent when she enters. It’s strange, Harry should be at home. 

She had been out with Mya and had come home early on purpose today, to surprise him and maybe spend the afternoon together like they used to do when their relationship was new and exciting.

She goes to the bathroom downstairs without even taking her coat and shoes off, she splashes her face with water and tries to calm down a little.

It’s a miracle she hasn’t started crying yet and she thinks it will come but right now she needs to pack some things and get on the road. It’s a long, long drive from the Vale to Winterfell - almost twelve hours - and she can’t bear the thought of Jon dying and her not being there for her family. For him.

She’s halfway through the stairs when she hears a noise. It sounds like a grunt and then something banging.

With her heart in her throat she tentatively calls out for Harry but there’s no response.

She’s hesitant when she opens the door to their bedroom, afraid of a possible intruder. What she finds is possibly worse.

Harry is in the house, in the bed to be exact but he’s not sick or taking a nap. 

Harry, her own fucking fiancé, is in bed with a girl who is definitely not her and who is definitely riding his cock.

The two of them freeze once she steps inside and she feels like she’s going to be sick.

She can hear him calling for her while she’s running out of the house, packing be damned.

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn around. She just throws her stupid, useless, meaningless diamond ring at him and storms out of the house.

It’s only when she’s already on the highway that she realizes she hasn’t shed a single tear yet.

* * *

She’s six hours in when she stops for the first time. 

The traffic is manageable and she thinks she might be at the hospital by five am.

She stops at the gas station to get a redbull and a snack, hates the feeling of being the only person in the store other than the guy drinking a beer at the counter. 

She checks her bag for the pepper spray she keeps there, just as a reminder that she has something to defend herself in case something happens. 

She thinks of Joffrey then, his wormy lips and his bruising grip on her arm. The way he used to sneer and insult. His hands, his fists.

She thinks of Petyr, too. She had escaped King’s Landing, dropped out of college at nineteen, too afraid to go back home and face her parents. She had gone to her aunt Lysa and her husband, they had taken her in and then she had realized men in the Vale are not that different from those in the capitol. 

Petyr had wanted her from the start and while he had never actually managed to get her, not in the way he wanted, his wandering touches had been enough to break something inside of her.

She remembers thinking of Harry as her knight in shining armour. He had come and swept her off her feet and had said all the right things. He had taken out on dates and remembered all the important anniversaries and occasions. He had given her gifts and attention and what she thought was love.

They were living together after three months of dating, engaged after six. 

She remembers the day like it was yesterday, she had come home earlier from hanging out with Mya - much like today. She remembers the rose petals on the floor leading to the bedroom, she remembers him in a suit next to their bed, already kneeling with the box in his hand. She doesn’t remember his words, washed away by her happy sobs and her continuous “yes”es. 

Things had started to go wrong _after_ all of that.

She would ask him about wedding plans and he would tell her that a long engagement was to be expected since he had proposed so early in the relationship. She would text him and he wouldn’t respond. She would wait for him, dinner ready, just for him to call her hours later telling her to not wait up for him because he would be working late.

All that and she still was surprised to see him in their bed with another woman in his arms. She should’ve known.

She tries to think about who was the last man that didn’t let her down, that didn’t break her trust.

The answer comes later, while she’s driving away.

It comes and it breaks her heart.

_ Jon Snow. _

* * *

The hospital is quiet when she steps through the doors, the receptionist gives her a sympathetic smile, probably due to the obvious exhaustion in her eyes.

Sansa doesn’t bother with small talk, it may be terribly impolite but she really needs to see her family. She really needs to see Jon.

Arya had kept her updated through the drive, he was stable apparently but he had yet to wake up. He would need a lot of time to recover and a lot of help too.

Once she finds the ICU, she also spots the form of her little sister slumped in one of the chairs in the waiting room, she’s covered by a coat she thinks might be Robb’s.

She drops a kiss on her forehead before asking a nurse if it would be ok for her to visit Jon.

He’s in a private room, probably her parents’ doing, and he’s attached to so many tubes and machines, her heart aches.

She takes him in little by little. He’s under the blankets, wearing an hospital gown. One of his hands is bandaged and his face is bruised but he’s breathing, he’s alive, he’s there.

She notices other things too, how his face is older, how is beard suits him, how he looks strong even in an hospital bed. Except for the casual texts here and there, they had not seen or heard from each other in almost three years. 

He could’ve died, she thinks. He could’ve died and her last words to him would’ve been a “Happy Birthday, Jon. You’re getting old!” via text.

She gets rid of her coat and her bag and settles on the chair beside him, takes his hand in hers.

Robb told her on the phone that his injuries should’ve been fatal, he told her he had flatlined for a minute or two but he had come back because Jon Snow is anything but a quitter. Jon Snow is stubborn enough to beat even death.

He’s a hero, the man in front of her. He was on duty as a firefighter when the accident happened, he had gone back in the burning house to save a child stuck somewhere in his own bedroom. The child had made it to safety but Jon hadn’t been so lucky.

She smiles a little remembering the quiet boy who had always indulged her when she had wanted him to pretend he was a brave warrior, saving her, the fair maiden, from a monster. 

Sansa doesn’t remember a time when she didn’t have a crush on Jon Snow, her brother’s best friend. 

She does remember when she actually realized what having a crush meant and how little the chances of him liking her back were. She remembers her stupid attempt at suppressing her feelings, she remembers her sudden coldness towards him, she remembers avoiding him.

_Gods_ , he hadn’t deserved that treatment.

The guilt gnaws at her and she has to remind herself that he’ll wake up, that everything will be ok.

After a while the events of the day get to her and she falls asleep with her head next to their entwined hands.

* * *

Robb shakes her awake not much later, offering a cup of coffee to her before taking a sip from his own.

They are silent for a moment, him just looking at his best friend’s unconscious form.

Then, “Sans. Oh Gods, Sans”, his voice breaks and she can’t do nothing but watch her older brother lose it in front of her. She stands up to cradle his head close to her chest, to comfort him while he sobs and sobs and sobs.

His mumbling something, she manages to make out her name and a heart wrenching “he was dead” but she shushes him, strokes his hair, helps him calm down.

When he has stopped crying, she puts her hands on his cheeks, looking at him straight in the eyes.

“He’ll be ok. Jon is gonna survive this and he’s gonna need all of us to help him get better, focus on that, Robb. Not the what ifs. There’s no what if. He’s gonna wake up. It’s just a matter of when”, she hugs him again.

“It’s so good to have you home”, he whispers in her hair and she just nods, trying to keep her own tears at bay.

“Ghost?”, she asks after Arya has entered the room and hugged the life out of her, just to unceremoniously sit on Jon’s hospital bed.

“He’s with mum and dad,” Robb is sitting on the other free chair in the room, head thrown back and eyes closed. “He’s confused but fine. The other dogs are helping, I think”.

“Jeyne?”

“At home. She’ll visit later with the others. How’s Harry?”

_Ah, fuck_.

Her right hand goes to play with the now non-existent ring on her finger, a nervous habit she’s picked up after her engagement. She tries to stop herself before her siblings notice that it’s missing but Arya is quick and observant, Sansa sees the moment realization hits her sister. 

She doesn’t say anything out loud, for which Sansa is grateful because she can’t deal with that conversation right now but there’s worry in her eyes.

Sansa just shakes her head a little. They will have to talk, she’s gonna have to explain a lot of things but now it’s not the time. 

Arya seems to understand because she changes the subject to lighter things.

It’s only later on, when people have come and gone and she has hugged her parents and her younger brothers, that Jeyne brings it up.

“How long are you gonna stay here, Sansa?”, she is smiling, sitting on Robb’s lap and playing absentmindedly with the hand on her thigh.

“Oh. Well,” she takes a breath, “me and Harry are not together anymore, so..”

She thinks she can hear Robb mutter a “thank the Gods” under his breath and it hurts more than she’d care to admit.

She knows her family has strong opinions on her past relationships, she knows they pity her disastrous love life, she knows it’s not fair to envy them but even Arya has found the love of her life, even Robb has settled down, _hell!_ Theon fucking Greyjoy and her best friend Jeyne Poole are on holiday right now for their third anniversary. It feels like the universe may be giving her a sign, telling her Sansa Stark is just not made for love and happiness.

Arya breaks the silence and says something so completely unexpected it renders Sansa speechless.

“That’s good. You’re gonna have to find a place to stay and Jon’s gonna need assistance. It works perfectly, if you ask me”.

That’s how Sansa Stark finds herself without a fiancé and with a new roommate in less than 48 hours.

* * *

It’s three days later when he wakes up.

Sansa is talking to Jeyne on the phone, updating her and Theon on the situation. 

“Are you ok, though? With Harry and everything?”

“I’ve been doing fine. Haven’t even cried or talked about it to anyone for that matter”

“Sans. That can’t be healthy. Please, you should —“

She’s saved from the lecture her best friend is probably gonna give her when the hand she’s been holding through the entire conversation (his hand) twitches.

“Oh, Gods”, she whispers on the phone. Then, a little louder. “Oh, Gods!”

“Sansa, hey, what’s happening?”, Jeyne sounds worried.

“I.. I think.. Jon just moved. Oh gods, I have to go Jeyne”, she hangs up without waiting for an answer and she would feel sorry for her terrible manners but Jon moves his hand again.

She feels the fingers of his uninjured hand press lightly on her palm and she sees his eyes flutter open for a second, just to close again.

She’s so happy she thinks she might collapse but she kisses his forehead instead and goes looking for a nurse.

Arya finds her sitting on the floor in the corridor outside of his room, nurses and doctors swarming in and out. Sansa is quick to tell Arya what happened and her little sister throws her arms around her, sobbing out of sheer relief.

She holds her for a long time, thinks about the irony of them being so close now that they’ve spent so many years apart, asks herself what’s wrong with her that she doesn’t seem able to cry about anything anymore.

The next few hours are a blur. They call their family and let them know Jon is awake, everyone comes rushing in and soon there are way too many people in a single hospital room but no one says anything because this is _Ned Stark_ ’s family and no one really has the heart to tell them they shouldn’t be there.

Everyone is talking, Jon is groggy and  tired but he’s smiling at the chaos in front of him. Someone must’ve already told him what happened because he hasn’t asked anything about the fire.

Sansa stays back, watches them, perched on a chair next to the window. She felt safer being close to him when he was unconscious but now that he’s awake, she knows she’s not really part of the group. She thinks it would be strange for her to be there, touching him, talking to him like an old friend. 

They are not really friends, they never have been.

They care about each other, he probably even loves her but not in the way young Sansa had wanted, craved once.

It’s too much to focus on so she comes up with an excuse and leaves the room for a while.

She comes back thirty minutes later to an empty room, except for Jon. She sees that Arya’s leather jacket is still next to her own though, so her and Gendry are probably still here somewhere.

Now, she is in a room alone with a very much awake Jon and she doesn’t know what to do. She should just grab her stuff and go but she lingers at the end of his bed, quiet.

It’s Jon that speaks first.

“Roommates, uh?”, there’s a small smile on his lips even though he looks exhausted.

“Uh. Oh, yeah. Mh. About that… if you don’t feel comfortable wit—“

“Sansa! Hey, no! You are doing me a favor, I’m the one that should ask you if you are comfortable with it”, his voice is a little hoarse and she pours him water in the cup on his bedside table and hands it to him without thinking.

He laughs a little, “clearly, I couldn’t ask for a better nurse”.

Her cheeks go red but she’s feeling bolder now that he has eased her worries a bit so she takes his hand in hers. 

He squeezes back.

“I’m glad you came back to us, Jon”

“I’m glad you came back, too”.


	2. i’m hoping you’ll figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, i’m back with chapter two!  
> i hope you like it, it’s very fluffy and domestic.
> 
> (also, sorry for any possible mistakes, english is not my first language!)

This is how it goes.

Jon is released from the hospital on a gloomy September day. 

They have a “welcome home” party and his - _their_ \- apartment is crammed with people. Family, friends, coworkers. 

Jon is sitting on the sofa because he still needs to not put so much strain on his body and is hand is still bandaged (the doctors say it will scar) but he looks better than he has in a while.

They have spent a lot of time with each other recently, going through the logistics of living together (his flat is small but has a second bedroom).

Sansa doesn’t have a job. When Harry had come in her life, she had been lost and sad, a college drop out that didn’t really feel like going back and an emotional mess.

Harry had told her to not worry about money, that he would provide for her and she had jumped at the opportunity to work on herself without having to worry about weighing on her parents. She had started painting and sewing and selling her works, which had made her feel productive.

She had told Jon all of this one day, in his hospital room. 

“I can find a job”, she had said.

“You are helping me, not the other way around”

“Still..”, she had shrugged.

“You can keep doing what you were doing while you were with him, save some money and once I get better we’ll talk about future plans, alright?” and that had been it.

Now Sansa finds herself trying to be the perfect hostess, preparing food and drinks for everyone and making sure they are having fun.

She will not admit it to anyone but she is exhausted, the past month having taken a lot from her. She still smiles when Jon’s coworkers and friends introduce themselves to her, she laughs with Theon and Jeyne, she even joins in on doing karaoke with a very drunk Robb but all she really craves is peace and quiet.

She wants to go back to her daily routine, she wants to spend her days focusing on her art, she wants to breathe easily again.

Gods, she hasn’t even had the time to think about what happened properly, to process her emotions. 

Her feelings are all over the place and they are at the same time intense and muffled. She feels like she might burst, explode, she’s waiting for the inevitable breakdown.

She’s _waiting_ for it but she’s not prepared when it comes.

It’s later on in the day, the house now empty except for the two of them and Ghost sleeping peacefully at their feet.

She is sat next to Jon, without makeup and in comfy clothes. The tv is on and Jon is watching it, she can hear his reaction to what’s happening on screen but her eyes are closed and she’s trying to fend off the headache she feels coming.

She’s dozing off when Jon says something.

“Mh?”, she asks, opening her eyes just a little to look at him.

She feels his hand on her knee and he starts rubbing his thumb back and forth on her leggings.

“You okay?”, he whispers. 

That’s something she has just recently learned about him, Jon Snow can be soft, gentle and attentive when he wants. 

She likes this side of him, a little too much.

Maybe it’s the look of concern in his eyes, maybe it’s the little circles he’s doing with his finger, maybe it’s the crushing realization that she’s once again being forced to restart her whole life - but before she can stop it, the first tear falls. 

He sits up straighter, suddenly alert. Now that she has started she cannot stop.

She puts distance between them, curls up on herself on the opposite side of the sofa, she’s starting to sob, cannot draw in deep breaths, hyperventilating.

She thinks she should get up, go to her room, save herself the embarrassment of doing this in front of Jon but she feels weak and everything hurts.

Jon surprises her by coming closer, he’s calm but hesitant - like one would approach a wounded animal. 

The thought makes her cry harder, does he think her broken? Dramatic? Entitled?  Should she really be the one sobbing when he’s the one who almost died?

She raises her hands to cover her face but Jon has reached her now and takes them in his own instead. She can’t bear to look at him.

The words come out painfully.

“I’m sor-“, a sob, a shaky breath, “I’m so sorry”. She sounds high pitched and whiny and Gods, when did she become such a mess.

She doesn’t know why but the words spur Jon into action, he tilts her chin up with his thumb and index finger until she’s looking at him - tears still falling.

He shushes her, “don’t ever apologize to me for crying, sweetheart” and she’s suddenly with her legs across his lap, his arm around her shoulders bringing her close to him.

He lets her cry on him, soak his t-shirt and even if he must be a little uncomfortable, his touch is comforting and he whispers sweet nothings in her ear until she calms down.

Her cheek is against his chest and her forehead is touching his neck.

“Feel better?”, he asks - dropping a light kiss on her head.

She nods feebly and mumbles another ‘sorry’.

“No apologies, remember?”, she nods again but her eyes are drooping and that’s how she falls asleep, with his fingers petting her hair and the beat of his heart under the palm of her hand.

She wakes up some time later, she’s basically on top of him and he’s holding her there with his arms circled around her waist. She tries to get up afraid she might be hurting him but he just grumbles and shifts on his side, bringing her with him. She snuggles a little closer, still half asleep, and smiles before closing her eyes once again.

* * *

They adjust to life together pretty quickly and efficiently.

He is feeling better but can’t do much except taking short walks with Ghost and doing physical therapy for his burned hand.  He’s restless and Sansa tries her best to keep him distracted and keep him company. 

They have friends and family over most of the times. Arya is usually planted on their sofa while she waits for Gendry to get off work, Robb and Jeyne bring pizza every Thursday night and the whole group gets together to watch a movie every weekend. 

It’s easy, living with Jon. More than that, it’s fun.

When no one is in the house, he usually watches her work on her painting or her sewing. He sits there, sweatpants and sweater on, glasses pushing back his dark curls and listens to her talk or hum. He rarely interrupts but when he does it’s not out of boredom or annoyance, it’s out of curiosity and genuine interest.

She feels like they might be friends and it’s nice to meet the real Jon, the one who is not so guarded and reserved. 

Her favorite thing she has discovered about him is that he really likes to be touched. He has never said that out loud but it’s obvious in the way he acts when she’s affectionate towards him. It’s in the way he brings her closer to him when she sits next to him, it’s in the way he stifles his moans when she is playing with his hair, it’s in the way he leans in when she touches his cheek or gives him a kiss on the forehead.

It’s entertaining to see him open up and it warms her heart more than she’d care to admit when he starts initiating contact too. When he opens his arms when she looks sad, when he squeezes her shoulder when he walks past her, when he touches her hip when she’s at the kitchen counter and he comes up behind her to take something from the cabinets, when he plays with her hair - even in front of their friends.

It’s a dangerous game, the one she’s playing. It’s a back and forth between hoping for something and trying to convince herself nothing is ever going to happen.

**jeyne:** i think u should go for it

**sansa:** oh shut up

**jeyne:** how dare u talk to me like that!!!!!! 

**jeyne:** he clearly wants to fuck you

**sansa:** don’t you have a boyfriend to harass

**jeyne:** we are fighting

**sansa:** what did he do now

**jeyne:** dont try to change the subject. 

Sansa sighs and puts the phone down, not wanting to dwell too much on what Jeyne is implying.

Sansa knows Jon and she knows he sees her as a little sister, his best friend’s little sister. 

Just because she’s been harboring the hugest crush on him since she was 12, it doesn’t mean she should act on it. Especially not so recently after getting her heart broken by Harry.

_Harry…_ she is trying her best to block out any emotion that his memory brings her. It’s not always easy, there’s a lot of sadness but mostly resentment. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when she can’t sleep, she asks herself if he has ever really loved her and if she has ever really loved him back.

They could’ve had a good life together, she concedes.

She had hailed him as her savior and he had been charming enough that she had let him sweep her off her feet but, in retrospect, something had always been missing between the two of them.

She rubs at her temples and checks her texts again.

**jeyne:** fine!! be like that! you are lucky i love you

She’s answering one of Arya’s texts when she hears something crashing in the bathroom, then: “fuck!”.

“Jon?”, she calls out.

He doesn’t respond but keeps cursing and stops only when she knocks on the door.

“I broke a jar and I cut myself, Sans, I’m -“

Admittedly, she should’ve waited for him to finish the sentence before barging in but her worry wins over logic and as she steps in the bathroom she doesn’t really think about what he was doing there in the first place.

His hair is wet and his chest is bare, there’s only a towel covering him, hanging from his hips.

A beat passes while they are just looking at each other. The scars on his chest are still very visible and for the first time she sees his burned hand uncovered, it’s trembling.

“What happened?”, the question comes out breathy and a little weak.

“It’s my stupid fucking hand”, he spats out. She can see now that he is trying to stop the blood coming from a cut on his uninjured palm and she takes over for him, making him sit on the toilet. She disinfects the wound and bandages it. 

He’s breathing heavily and once she’s done she repeats her question.

“It spasms, sometimes. The burned hand. We are working on it in physical therapy but I couldn’t catch the jar in time”, he looks dejected and she almost feels like crying. She hasn’t given much thought on how Jon was coping with his injuries mentally. She feels like the worst person ever all of a sudden.

“Fucking ugly thing”, he’s looking at it as if he could just make the scars disappear. He tries to close it all the way, to make a fist but it’s still shaking. She carefully kneels in front of him, takes the hand in her own and brings it to her lips to kiss the back of it.

He is looking at her, eyes dark and she keeps dropping kisses everywhere on his burned skin.

“You were so brave, Jon”, she whispers. “You saved people. These scars?” and she looks at the ones on his chest too, tracing them lightly with her finger. “They just tell me what I’ve always known”

“What’s that?”, he sounds young, vulnerable.

“That you are a hero”, _my hero_ , she wants to add. But it’s better left unsaid.  


* * *

It’s two months after she has moved back to Winterfell with Jon that she receives the text.

She’s sitting at the desk in the living room, working on a bunch of dresses commissioned to her by Jon’s sister, Rhaenys. It’s a big project and Rhaenys has insisted on paying her fully, even if Sansa had tried to give her a discount. 

Rhae’s gonna wear those dresses to televised events full of rich women who could potentially ask her who she is wearing and Sansa is losing her mind trying to make them perfect.

The notification makes her jump a little and she realizes she has been working for hours when she lifts her head and sees that it’s getting dark outside.

Jon is in the room too, watching one of his war documentaries that he seems to actually enjoy. He tilts his head back to look at her when he hears the sewing machine stop and he waves at her to come sit next to him.

She stretches when she stands up and picks up her phone before going to the sofa and dropping her head in his lap while lying on her side 

“Hi”, he says, soft smile on his face. He puts the television on mute and strokes her hair with his fingers.

She can only hum in response and snuggle closer to his stomach, so that her forehead touches his shirt.

Her phone chimes again and she huffs.

He’s massaging her temple with his thumb and she asks herself if he knows that she gets headaches after a long day. Something tells her he does.

“Tell me who it is”, she shoves her phone between them, “don’t wanna open my eyes”.

She thinks it may be the family groupchat and she’s ready to ignore them in favor of some more cuddles from Jon but she’s not expecting his next question.

“Why the hell is Harry texting you?”

She’s suddenly wide awake and she sits up, facing Jon, hand stretched to ask for her phone back.

He hands it to her and she’s shaking a little when she unlocks it to read what the cheating bastard has to say to her.

**asshole:** when are you coming to pick up your stuff?

She shows it to Jon and tries (but fails) to not cry.

It’s not like she’s still in love with him and it’s not like she was expecting anything else from him but it still hurts. Not even an apology. Not even an explanation. Not even a “how are you?”.

Jon curses under his breath.

“Next week”, he wipes her cheeks.

“What?”

“Tell him we are picking up your stuff next week”

“We? I… Jon. It’s a long drive to and from The Vale”

“I’m not letting you go alone”, his tone leaves no room for discussion, “wanna get drunk?”

She laughs.

  
  


They are back in the same position they were in before Harry ruined the moment but they are both a little tipsy now and they have somehow found themselves on Jon’s bed.

The room is clean and tidy where hers is messy and disorganized, it’s a little empty and poorly decorated but it smells like him and his mattress is very comfortable.

“Is that really her name?”, he asks, laughing.

She nods and starts giggling again when his only response is, “what kind of name is Saffron?”

“I can’t believe I almost married someone who cheated on me with someone named after a spice”

“I don’t think the name matters, love”

_(love, love, love, love)_

She sighs, “maybe she was sexier than me”.

She feels Jon freeze for a second, a strangled “what?” coming out of his lips.

“You know.. maybe she was more experienced”

She’s laying on her back with her head on his lap, his injured hand flat on her chest, thumb stroking her collarbone innocently.

“That’s bullshit”, he says after a long pause.

She’s taken aback for a second, “I haven’t been with anyone but him”.

“Wasn’t talking about that part”

Her alcohol muddled brain takes a moment to understand what he’s saying but then, oh. _Oh._

She blushes, averting his eyes. Does he think she’s sexy?

He’s tipsy, she reasons and she is too, which is probably why she is brave enough to push a little further.

“How many relationships have you been in?”

He looks surprised.

“Two”

“That’s not a lot”

He chuckles a little, “darling, are you asking me with how many women I have slept with?”.

She must be as red as her hair but she wants her answer, so she nods.

He’s impossibly close to her, his thumb still drawing circles on her skin and she feels hot, so hot.

“More than two”, he smirks.

“Was it good? For them?”

He grunts, shifts a little in his place.

“I… yeah. Yeah, I think so”

They are silent for a while, Sansa tries her best to fight off sleep but his touch is relaxing and she feels so content just to be held by him.

Before she drifts off to sleep, she mumbles, “he never really made me feel good” and she can swear she hears him mutter something under his breath, but then she’s out.

* * *

The day they decide to go to The Vale, it’s raining.

It’s cloudy and dark outside and she’s tired because they opted for waking up early in order to arrive at the house in the afternoon.

Sansa is not in the best mood but Jon has prepared coffee for them both and he’s smiling, seemingly ok with having to get up at 4am to go pick up her stuff from her cheating fiancé.

“Jon, are you sure you wanna drive?” she  asks, while putting on her shoes.

He ushers her out of the door, shushing her complaints.

They are sitting in the car when she tells him for the last time that he can back out if he wants. He shouldn’t forced to spend 22 hours driving in total and to spend the night in what’s probably gonna be an uncomfortable motel.

He looks at her, exasperated.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else”, and it sounds like he means it.

He starts the engine and they are off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on twitter @yenslilac and on tumblr @inejcrows.
> 
> leave a comment or kudos if you liked this!
> 
> part three is coming, thank you for all the lovely feedback on the first chapter 😘


	3. love’s a state of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, friends, this is the end!  
> i took some time to finish it, i hope you don’t mind.  
> i had fun writing this, it’s probably the longest fic i’ve written as of yet.  
> i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> this is for gabi, that always helps me and loves me too much.

It ends like this.

“Oh, fuck off, Jon!”, she says, stretching to get to her phone - which is currently being taken hostage by the driver of the car, “my taste in music is impeccable! Now, give it back!”. 

He laughs but still doesn’t relent.

“Nuh uh, miss. You’ll have the phone back only if you promise we can listen to one of my playlists”, she’s fully pouting now even though he can’t really see her since his eyes are on the - fortunately almost empty - road.

“Fine”, she grumbles, “you’re no fun!”

“Sansa, we have been driving for the past..”, he glances at the clock, “..five hours and all we’ve listened to is your broadway playlist. I’m calling an intervention”.

She stucks her tongue out at him but bends down to search for his phone in the overnight bag at her feet.

She asks him if he wants her to hand it to him but he gives her the passcode instead.

His lockscreen is an adorable pic of him, Robb and Arya all sleeping on the couch in their flat, mouths hanging open, all cuddled up together. She remembers her siblings crying to her at the hospital and she feels once again so grateful that Jon fought to come back to them.

She doesn’t know what she expects his home screen to be but it’s certainly not what she sees once she unlocks the phone. Her own face greets her in the background, she’s smiling up at the camera and Ghost is between her legs, letting her hug him tight. It’s a lovely photo and she stares at it for a few seconds more before opening the Spotify app.

She browses through his various playlist, some are organized by mood and others are just compilations of his favorite songs from various artists. She settles for the Fleetwood Mac playlist and as Stevie Nicks’ voice fills the car, he starts humming under his breath. She’s still looking at his music when a text from Arya comes in. 

Her eyes fall on the notification before she can stop it.

**hurricane arya:** have u told her yet?

_Told who? Told what?_

Then, another ping.

**hurricane arya:** is2g u are an idiot

**hurricane arya:** why do u think i suggested she move in with u

**hurricane arya:** so stupid

_ Oh, they are talking about her. _

_ Is he..? Would he..? _

She is taken from her thoughts by a hand stroking her thigh gently.

“Everything ok?”

“Arya texted you”

Rhiannon is playing in the background and he’s tapping the steering wheel. He looks so beautiful like this, she wishes she could just spend the rest of her life gazing at him.

“I’m not talking to that devil. Yesterday she told me that Ghost is not as beautiful as Nymeria, can you believe that?”

She gasps in fake outrage, “how dare she!”

“Right! Exactly! Let her suffer for a bit, she deserves it!”

She laughs at that and he joins her, stealing a quick glance at her.

As she is sitting there, with the touch of his hands burning through her tights, one of his big smiles on his face, eyes sparkling, singing off-key, she knows that she is absolutely, without the shadow of a doubt, head over heels in love with him and for the first time in a long time (with Arya’s texts still in her mind), she feels.. hopeful.

* * *

She starts feeling anxious by hour nine. 

They have stopped for a bathroom break and Jon is getting them a late lunch at the gas station, she’s getting some fresh air, leaning against the car.

She has had her fair share of panic attacks during her time away from home and she is now painfully aware of the signs. The shortness of breath, the numbness, the weakness, the feeling of being crushed. 

She wishes for it to go away, for the panic to subside but the coat she’s wearing is feeling too hot, her skin is burning, her hands are shaking - she knows what’s happening.

In King’s Landing she had no one but herself to help her snap out of it, she had had to calm herself down, hold herself at night while sobbing, she _knows_ how to get through a panic attack alone but when she sees Jon walking towards her, with two sandwiches in hand and a smile on his face, she also know she doesn’t need to anymore, not now (and possibly not ever again).

He understands something is wrong as soon as he looks at her face and he opens the back door of the car to get her out of the cold.

“I can’t breathe”, she sobs. “I can’t.. I can’t breathe!”, she’s trying and failing to get the layers of constricting clothing off of her. He gently pushes her fingers away and helps her out of her coat and jumper - leaving her in a turtleneck, skirt and tights.

One of her hands is pushing against her chest and she’s crying so much her head hurts. 

“Sans, you’re having what I think might be a panic attack”, she nods - gulping to let air in her lungs. “Tell me what I can do, please, love, how can I help?”

She can’t really speak so she hugs him instead. He wraps himself around her and starts stroking her back, telling her to breathe in and out.

She sags against him even more once she manages to do as he says and her first coherent thought is that she should probably stop crying on him but, _Gods_ , does it feel nice to be cared for.

She whimpers, hides her face in the crook of his neck.

“Shh, it’s ok. You’re ok. I’ve got you”

He really does.

* * *

  
  


She falls asleep as soon as they start driving again, the panic attack having left her exhausted. Her dreams are filled with his sweet voice, his hands, his eyes, his words.

She used to have nightmares after having particularly bad days but she sleeps better with him next to her. He makes her feel safe.

He gently shakes her awake some time later.

“We are here”, he says - pointing at the house on the side of her window.

She groans and Jon gives her a small smile.

“If you don’t feel like going in, I can do it for you”, he offers.

She shakes her head, “I need closure. I want closure”.

He steps out of the car then and runs to her car door to open it up for her, she blushes a little at the sweet gesture. 

Without really thinking about it, she takes his burned hand in hers and she holds tight as she rings the doorbell.

Harry opens the door with a dazzling smile that turns into a grimace when his eyes land on Jon and their entwined hands. He steps away a little, wordlessly inviting them to enter. 

Her first thought is that everything looks the same as the day she left, even the pictures of them are still up. She remembers taking each one, she remembers hanging them up, she remembers the feeling of insincerity that came with it and how she swallowed it down - accepting a life of pretending over risking being hurt once again. She feels freer now, next to Jon, than she ever did with her ex-fiancé. She feels more at home in their cramped apartment than she ever did in this house with a big backyard and a picket fence. 

She suddenly wants to laugh. She’s so tired of keeping secrets and not being truthful, so tired of being afraid.

Harry clears his throat.

“I thought you’d be alone”, he says. “Thought we might talk privately”

Jon loosens his grip a little but Sansa doesn’t let go.

“Whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of Jon, too”, she never wants to be in a room alone with Harry ever again. He’s harmless but manipulative and she doesn’t care for his pretty words and even prettier lies.

“Baby..”

Beside her, Jon shifts. Clenches his jaw. 

“Not your baby anymore”

He scoffs, “are you his, now?”

Jon is angry, she is too but she tries to change the subject, tries to not show how much she’d love for Harry’s words to be true.

“Is that my stuff?”, she nods at the boxes and bags in the corridor.

Harry nods and for a while they are silent, carrying everything to the car.

They are standing in the front garden, ready to leave, when Harry opens his mouth.

“Sansa, please, I want to try again”

Jon looks away, cracks his knuckles. He’s giving them space but she knows he would intervene, to protect her, to defend her.

She doesn’t like feeling helpless but his gesture seems protective, not overbearing. He trusts her to take care of Harry, he trusts she can do it on her own but he still lets her know, subtly, that he’s there. He’s not leaving.

At her silence, he adds, “you have to understand, baby, I was stressed and Saffron and I worked together! She was there with me all the time, it was a mistake!”

Sansa laughs at that.

“She was there with you all the time because you were fucking her, you idiot! Had you come home, to me, your fiancée, you wouldn’t be here pleading for forgiveness”, her voice is higher now - she hopes it’ll carry. Let everyone know what an ass Harry Hardying really is.

“I was frustrated! I.. You.. I needed someone to help me take the edge off”

“You had me! Wasn’t I enough?”, she hears her voice breaking and she hates that he can still make her feel so insecure.

“Not in..”, he sighs but stops but she knows what he would’ve said, _not in bed._

Sex with Harry had always been rushed and mostly unsatisfying, in the last months of their relationship he had started subtly blaming her for his subpar performance. She thinks now about how hurt she had been, thinks about Jon telling her that sex should feel good, thinks about him cheating on her and still trying to make himself look like the victim and she raises her hand.

The slap is loud and she hopes his cheek will be red for a while.

“Please, I love you”, he tries again. Men like him are not used to not getting what they want and it shows.

“I don’t”, her voice leaves no room for argument. “I don’t think I ever had. I don’t believe you ever did, either”

They look at each other, his eyes do look sad and she asks herself if he had actually thought they would get back together.

“Don’t ever contact me, ever again”, she says - joining Jon that is watching their interaction from inside the car - “I pity the girl who is going to fall for you for real”.

They leave her old life behind with her ex-fiancé watching them drive away forever.

  
  


The motel owner hands them the key to their room.

When they enter, Sansa is pleasantly surprised: the two queen size beds look comfortable and there’s a small bathroom with an apparently clean and functioning shower.

She drops her bag on the floor and jumps on the mattress face down, groaning.

She feels Jon sitting next to her and she turns her head a little, to face him.

“You hungry?”, he asks.

He strokes the strand of hair that has fallen on her cheek and she closes her eyes, humming a little.

“Shower first”, she mumbles.

“I’ll go first”, he offers, “relax a little and when it’s your turn I’ll go find something to eat, ok?”

She watches him stand up and take a few things with him before entering the bathroom. She has the sudden urge to tell him to keep the door open or join him.

She sighs and turns so that she’s lying on her back, patting the bed next to her in search of her phone. When she finds it, she sees that she has various text messages from both Jeynes, one from Arya asking her how it went with Harry and - surprisingly - one from Rhaenys.

She opens that one first and she’s greeted by a lovely pic of Jon’s sister in one of the dresses Sansa had been working on. It looks stunning on her and she tells her so - which earns her a text full of kissy emojis that make Sansa giggle. 

Then:

**rhaenys:** is my brother there with you?

**rhaenys:** listen, i may be overstepping here but.. i wanted to thank you for what you did for him. 

**sansa:** he needed help, i care about him, it was the least i could do

**rhaenys:** it’s more than that

**rhaenys:** you make him happy. very happy

**rhaenys:** i think he makes you happy too

**rhaenys:** or he wants to, at least. please let him. you deserve it

  
  


* * *

Sansa is out of the shower and looking at herself in the mirror. 

She adjusts the straps of her baby blue nightgown, twirls around a bit.

**sansa:** i look dumb

**jeyne:** for the love of the gods, sansa, will u shut up

**sansa:** it’s too much

**jeyne:** hence the robe. to cover yourself 

**jeyne:** at least until he takes your clothes off

**sansa:** you don’t know he wants to do that

**jeyne:** sansa, my love, anyone with eyes knows he wants to do that

**jeyne:** now please. go out there, get laid and come back with a boyfriend before i go insane

She can hear Jon moving around on the other side of the door.

She fastens her robe around her a little tighter, he has seen her in sleepwear before, she likes pretty stuff and they do live together but this feels different, this feels _purposeful._

With a deep breath she steps in the bedroom and is greeted by the sight of Jon on one of the beds, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, eating something. He has his glasses on and he’s watching the small TV.

“Got chinese, I hope it’s ok with you”, he smiles a little before fully turning towards her. 

Her breath stops as his eyes sweep over her figure once, then twice. 

He gulps, sets down the container on the nightstand and sits up straighter. 

“Sansa”, he breathes and she knows she’s not imagining the way he is looking at her right now. 

She can’t believe she has never recognized the look on his face for what it is: _want_. 

Jon Snow wants her. 

The thought makes her head spin, her chest tighten.

The room is suddenly too hot, she blushes and before she can overthink it, she removes the robe and drapes it on the chair near her. She’s standing in front of the man she loves dressed only in a silk nightgown, her hands toy with the hem of the dress.

He repeats her name and she forces herself to look at him, he’s sitting at the edge of the bed now, feet touching the ground like he is about to come to her but she doesn’t let him. She approaches him slowly, tentatively. He hasn’t said anything but her name and it makes her worry. 

She stops in front of Jon, his legs spread open a little and she takes it as an invitation to step closer. Her heart is beating wildly, had someone told sixteen year old Sansa that she would, at one point in the future, be in this position with Jon, she would’ve never believed it. 

His hands drop to her waist, the feel of his touch and the silk of the nightgown pressed against her skin almost making her moan.

“What’s happening?”, he asks - voice hoarse. She smooths the little frown that appears between his brows with her thumb, strokes it gently until it disappears.

Her fingers trace his face and she lifts both of her palms to cup his cheeks gently, lovingly.

“I think it’s obvious”, she whispers. He tightens his grip on her a little and sighs.

“Is this.. Is this about what Harry told you today?”

Oh. That’s what’s bothering him. 

He had heard everything and had tried to make her laugh on the way to the motel, he had even agreed to listen to her broadway playlist once again - joined in while she sang the Anastasia soundtrack at the top of her lungs. She had quickly forgotten about the hurtful words, just happy to be with Jon.

They come back to her now, making her self conscious. Jon would never be mean to her but would he enjoy it? Would it be good? Is the problem actually her?

She takes a deep breath. He tugs her towards him a little, maybe to get her attention, and she lets herself sit on one of his thighs.

He’s watching her attentively and his eyes soften when she shakes her head no.

“Jon..”, she removes his glasses carefully, “I have liked you since we were kids. I’ve wanted you for so long”

“Want? Is that what this is?”

She trembles when his fingers trace her spine, up and down. 

“I.. Yes” 

He hums.

“No,” she corrects herself, “it’s more”.

Her emotions are so intense she feels like crying, she clutches the fabric of his shirt. 

He lets her continue, doesn’t interrupt her, gives her time.

“I have loved you for so long. I loved you when we were young and you thought I hated you. I loved you when I said yes to Harry. I loved you when you died and came back. I loved you when we started living together and I love you now. I don’t think I know how to not love you, Jon”, a tear escapes her and she bites her lip.

His thumb stops her, he swipes the spot she was gnawing at and she gasps a little.

“Good”, is all he says before kissing her.

He takes and takes and takes from her, she gives herself to him completely, lets him take control. He is pulling at her hair a little, his tongue is in her mouth and she sighs and moans and she begs for more with everything but her words.

When Jon pulls away it’s to lay her down on the bed. 

On her back, with him hovering over her, in the shitty fluorescent light of the motel room, he looks like a God.

He dips his head lower, presses lazy kisses on her neck but she needs to know. She needs him to say it so she grabs his curls and gently redirects him up towards her.

“Tell me”, she whispers, “please, tell me”

He smirks and takes her lips one more time before looking at her and finally saying what she was craving to hear.

“I love you, Sansa. Always have, always will” and she melts completely beneath him, lets him kiss, bite, lick her skin.

Lets him go down until his head is between her legs. Lets him remove her panties, hike up her dress. Lets him make her feel good.

The first lick of his tongue makes her see stars and she vows she will let him worship her forever. She moans and writhes and he grasps her thighs to keep her still. She thinks it might bruise and she welcomes it.

He makes her come undone embarrassingly quickly and as he comes back up to kiss her more, he takes her nightgown with him. He throws it somewhere behind him and she’s completely naked now.

He drinks her in, “you’re so fucking beautiful”.

She blushes and he seems to like it because he keeps complimenting her. He tells her how great she is as he strokes her nipples, tells her how sexy she is as she undresses him, tells her what a lucky bastard he is to have her as his girlfriend as he enters her (“you are my girlfriend, right?” “yes, Jon, yes yes yes”), tells her how much he loves her moans and whimpers as he fucks her slowly, tells her he loves her cunt as he thrusts into her more quickly and renders her speechless. 

He tells her how much he loves her as she comes again, as she trembles in his arms and he kisses her roughly during his own release.

Once they are done and they have both gotten up to clean themselves, they end up staring at each other with matching lovesick smiles.They are both sleepy. He opens his arms and she cuddles up to him, feeling really and truly happy for the first time in what feels like forever.

She’s almost completely asleep when she murmurs, “you made me feel good. You always do” and he just holds her tighter.

It’s only when they are in the car, ready to go back home, _their_ home, that she realizes:

This is not how it ends.

This is how it starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hope the smut is ok, it’s not extremely explicit but it’s the most explicit i have ever written!)

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @yenslilac and on tumblr @inejcrows.
> 
> leave a comment or kudos if you liked this, i’m actually kind of nervous.  
> leave a comment if you hated it too, just for fun 😉
> 
> i have already almost completely written part two and part three will come if someone likes this fic.


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